Illusion of Permanence
by thunderings
Summary: On a foggy November night in London, Alice's life is saved by none other than Ilosovic Stayne. What will transpire when she is forced to nurse him back to health, after his memories of her and Underland have been forgotten? ჯ Stayne/Alice ჯ
1. Beginnings

**Title: **Illusion of Permanence

**Rating: **T

**Warning(s): **None so far

**Summary: **On a foggy November night in London, Alice's life is rescued from a runaway carriage by none other than Ilosovic Stayne. What will transpire when she is forced to nurse him back to health, after his memories of her and Underland have been forgotten?

**A/N: **I guess I should start off by saying that I haven't written a multi-chaptered for at least a year and a half now. I'm rusty at this in more ways than one, from having written in second person for a good while now and only publishing oneshots. I'm getting back into the groove of things, and I do hope you enjoy this. I was really hesitant about posting this story, so we'll see what happens.

* * *

The wind howled like a wolf in the night, and in the process blew the last remaining withered crimson leaves through the chilly night air. Skeletal trees with their naked branches seemed to dance as if a nighttime specter had cast a spell on them. Occasionally rain drops would fall from the heavens, as if like a maiden crying over her broken heart. High above in the sky, stars shined like diamonds that had fallen off a broken necklace, while the moon veiled London in a blanket of silver. The populace had all fallen blissfully asleep, and would not wake until the flaming sun began its ascension. As for the streets, they were all but deserted. No sign of life would be seen for the next few hours…

And yet amidst a sleeping city, one person remained far away from a warm bed and sweet dreams.

Standing underneath a gaslight was a very tall gentleman. Unlike the occasional male passerby, he did not wear a top hat, or smoke from a pipe; he opted for a long black cloak that fell to the wet ground. At first glance one might think him to be a statue, while the fainter of heart would choose a more mystical name to describe the man: _a phantom. _

Phantom or man, (_you decide) _he did not move an inch- not even when Big Ben struck the bewitching hour: _midnight_. As if on cue, a young woman dashed out of the nearby woods, muttering words that could only be heard to her. The man leaned on the gaslight lazily, and turned his head to follow where the young woman went to next. She stopped just outside of the woods and adjusted her blue coat -which was slightly damp from a past storm; her long blonde hair had once been pinned up beautifully, but alas, had now fallen limply to her waist. After securing her coat and looking fearfully at the pocket watch she carried, the young woman quickly picked up her skirts and ran down the wet cobblestone street at breakneck speed.

Choosing to remain in the shadows, the man stealthily followed her through the maze of alleys and streets. Despite apparently knowing the layout of the city like the back of her hand, the girl did not once notice the tall looming figure following her.

_Or that her life was about to change forever. _

After stepping out of an alleyway, the girl stopped suddenly, and nervously stared at a tall house that held an air of finery about it. Despite it being late at night, the golden plaque beside the door was still readable to anyone that passed by: _Kingsley residence. _

It was none other than Alice Kingsley that stood outside of her home, on a cold November night, shivering underneath her thin blue coat. For the past few months after returning from China, she had taken a liking to visiting the woods surrounding the Ascot's large manor home. Under the cover of the night, Alice would retreat into the wooden area, and lay on her back while staring up at the ocean of stars and planets. There was something oddly comforting about the forest; perhaps it was knowing that just underground, all of her friends dwelled happily…

Banishing such thoughts from her mind, Alice bit down on her lip as she thought about how to get back into her home. This was always the most dangerous and difficult partwhich she both dreaded and yet found exciting. There was always the way through the servant's entryway, or perhaps the window in the parlor that was always unlocked; each night Alice tried a new way in, finding the situation to be deliciously thrilling.

It was then that she began to feel quite odd –as if someone was watching her. Swiftly turning around, Alice's hazel eyes scanned the foggy streets for any signs of life; alas there was none, and the young woman felt a wave of relief wash over her.

There are rare moments in our life when one single action can change everything; when lady fate steps in, and as if our lives are a game, changes the rules and outcome at whim. As Alice stepped out onto the street to cross to her home, she did not notice the carriage racing towards her –nor did she notice the towering male behind her suddenly realizing what was about to transpire. In one swift movement, he ran out onto the street and pushed Alice away just in time.

Yet time was not on _his _side. As if she were caught in a dream, Alice watched as the man that saved her slipped on the wet pavement and fell to the ground; the carriage, (_whose driver was admittedly intoxicated_) driven by two coal black horses, trampled over the man without notice.

Alice let out a horrified cry as she quickly ran to her savior. The cloak he had worn was torn to pieces, and by the looks of it he had more than likely broken a rib or two. Biting down on her lip and resisting the urge to cry for her rescuer, she pushed back his ebony colored hair to stare into the face of the man that had given his life to protect her.

This time, another gasp escaped Alice's full lips. This man –her protector- was in fact someone she knew all too well.

It was Ilosovic Stayne.

And he was certainly not dead.


	2. Lace

**A/N: **I apologize for the long wait. It wasn't writers block, rather it was that I had to really sit down and decide what direction I wanted this story to go in. So, here's the next chapter, and hopefully they will be out faster next time around.

Criticism and opinions and thoughts are appreciated. If you have any questions pertaining to the story, ask.

* * *

Sunlight poured in from an open window - which flooded the otherwise dark room with an almost heavenly glow; a few of the sun's golden rays hit a crystal vase, and in turn cast little rainbows against the cream coloured walls. Outside birds sang songs that only they could decipher, and were only drowned out by the chiming of Big Ben. Sitting in a settee by the window was Alice Kingsley. She barely took notice that the sun's rays were streaming in her face, or that she was biting her lower lip down so hard that it had turned quite red. Her eyes were transfixed on her bed, which presently she _should _have been sleeping in, if it were not already preoccupied…

The events of the previous night were almost a blur: hazy and vague like a dream forgotten upon waking. Was it really possible that her arch enemy (_and failed seducer no less!) _had escaped to her world and saved her life? Had she really managed to drag him into her bedroom without anyone noticing? If it were not for the overly large body with long legs hanging off the side of her bed, Alice would certainly have considered this one big dream. Ilosovic Stayne however, _was_ certainly lying on her bed, unmoving and frozen as if he had perhaps had too much of Absolem's hookah. Indeed, more than once Alice had to stifle a rogue giggle, for image of seeing the once proud knave in a sea of silken sheets and laced pillows was more than she could possibly take.

"No doubt he's probably dreaming of tarts and pressing ladies against walls," Alice murmured to herself, while suppressing a laugh.

For the past few hours (_trying to sleep on a thinly cushioned settee and with a bloodthirsty killer in the room is quite nearly impossible) _Alice had tried to make sense of what had occurred. First off, she had no earthly idea _why _he was here in London and not rotting away in the Outlands with the dethroned Iracebeth screeching at his side. Had Stayne somehow managed to escape from his sentencing? If so, why would he have come to London? To extract his revenge upon her? Alice shuddered at the thought and drew her legs into her chest; so many questions and yet no answers - the whole situation was troubling indeed.

She quietly made her way towards the bed on tiptoe, feeling horribly frightened at what should happen if he were to awake. Moving slowly towards the bed, she noticed his hair was tangled and knotted, and if possible his scars seemed more grisly looking than ever. Lifting her hand lightly to his face, Alice traced each and every scar. Each wound had a story attached to it, (_and she longed to know every grim detail) _and for every mark there was man stone cold dead and lying in a coffin. Alice had seen the way he had acted in battle: fearless and almost like a bloodthirsty beast. She pitied anyone that had dared to encounter him…

Suddenly Stayne let out a moan and writhed beneath Alice's white silken sheets. In a wave of fear and panic, she quickly hurried over to the other side of the bedroom and grabbed the nearest object for protection, which happened to be an oil lamp. ("_The oil inside could very well in fact irritate his eye," Alice thought) _Her fears were soon dashed, for Stayne didn't awaken or give any indication he would at any time. With a little huff, Alice placed the lamp back on her vanity and sat once more on the settee.

This was just absolute madness. A man -that she did not like in the slightest- had suddenly invaded her world and _bed; _she was reduced to a prisoner in her own bedroom – afraid to leave the room for a fear someone might walk in, and afraid to stay in it for a fear of him waking. Everything he had done in Underland –the betrayals, the killings, the lying, the scheming, and the forced seduction– all of those memories flooded into Alice's head and sent a shiver down her spine. She found herself even wishing to face the Jabberwocky again, if it meant Stayne was back in Underland, chained to Iracebeth until the end of time.

It seemed that luck wasn't on her side, for when Alice was considering what exactly she should do, the bedroom door swiftly opened, and in walked her... _mother._

"Alice, you do remember Mrs. Davensport asked as for tea this afternoon? I would suggest wearing your light green dress for the occas-" Helen stopped mid sentence however, as her eyes fell upon a mess of dark hair on Alice's pillow, and a pair of legs that dangled off the edge of the bed. At first she thought that perhaps Alice had had a growth spurt during the night, and on top of that dyed her hair a raven hue; it wasn't until a distinct manly groan emitted from under the covers that Helen Kinglsey snapped out of her reverie.

"Alice…is that a-a _man _in your bed?" Mrs. Kingsley asked through gritted teeth, trying desperately to remain composed.

"Mum, please let me explain everything-" Alice started, but was cut off.

"My bedroom. _Now." _Helen swiftly exited without another word, to which Alice had no other option but to trail uneasily behind her. _What would she say? _It had never once crossed her mind to ever speak of Underland and its inhabitants to anyone, for a fear of being sent to the asylum. In this situation however, the options were few and far between. When they did finally enter the bedroom, Mrs. Kinglsey let out her long braid, and sat at her vanity with a silver brush in hand.

"For years I have groomed you to become a wife someday. I stood by and said nothing when you refused Hamish, and I let you skip off to China with nothing more than a dream to guide you. Well no more Alice, for I am your mother and will not allow you to destroy your reputation. Can you imagine the scandal this would cause if this got out? That there is a-a abnormally _large _man in your bed? Your hopes for a husband would be scattered to the wind. All the governesses and training you've gone through these past years would be all for naught." Helen brushed her long blonde hair –now streaked with silvery strands- with fervor, and then finished by slamming it down on her vanity.

"You _will _go into your bedroom and make that strange man leave through the servant's entry way, and then afterwards will get dressed for tea at Mrs. Davensport's," she concluded with an intensity Alice had never seen before. For a few moments the young woman stared worriedly at her mum, not having the slightest idea of what to do. However, it is often in the most difficult of situations that the human brain seems to work much better being frazzled, for soon an idea formulated in her mind.

"Mother, I understand what you're saying to me, but please understand that the man in my room isn't a stranger," Alice licked her lips and took a deep breath, "In all actuality, we met in China. He happens to be an owner of a tea making company, which I was hoping to create a partnership with. I invited him to visit London so we could discuss business opportunities; unfortunately his ship got in rather late due to the weather, and he was already suffering from sea sickness and didn't know his way about London -so he came here. I apologize for any confusion because of this." Alice was surprised how easily it was to weave a deceitful tale with such an incredible ease. She did not know if her mother would buy the story, or how Stayne himself would react to it upon waking. For now however, this seemed like the best course of action. After a few minutes passed by, Helen's anger seemed to weaken and her ladylike façade seemed to resurface once more.

"My dear, why didn't you tell me sooner, before I scolded you? I apologize dearest," she made her way towards Alice and hugged her gently, "You always do seem to get yourself into strange situations and meet the oddest people, don't you? Well I must meet this –what is his name?"

"Ilosovic Stayne."

"Yes, I must meet this Ilosovic at once. Better yet, why not have him attend the afternoon tea with us? I'm sure everyone would be delighted to hear his anecdotes on various teas and China," Helen said with a gleam in her eye. (_No doubt already planning a wedding in her head, and quite liking the idea of her daughter marrying the owner of a tea company) _She ushered Alice from her bedroom and shut the door, leaving a very stunned girl standing in the hallway. So her mother _had _taken the bait quite easily, (_more than likely disillusioned with images of grandeur and of vacationing in China) _and while this was good on one hand, it also meant having to explain the situation to a certain knave…

"What a fine kettle of fish you've gotten yourself into Alice Kingsley," she murmured to herself while walking down the hall, "This is even more nerve-wracking than trying to obtain the Vorpal sword."

Stepping into her bedroom, (_and trying to think up yet another course of action) _Alice let out a gasp as she was greeted with last thing she was anticipating. Stayne was lounging on the settee, with a bewildered look upon his face.

"Where am I? And who exactly are you?" He asked, sitting up quite confused.

_Curiouser and curiouser. _


End file.
